Hannah's Joy

by Marta Perry

  The boy. She suppressed annoyance that he didn’t use Jamie’s name. “Jamie’s fine. He’s growing like a weed and trying to learn new words all the time.”

  As if he knew she was talking about him, Jamie looked up from his bear and gave her the smile that was uncannily like Travis’s.

  Aunt Paula, probably thinking to offer her some privacy, struggled to her feet with the aid of the cane. “Komm, Jamie. Snack time.”

  She started for the kitchen, and Jamie raced ahead of her.

  “Good.” Robert repeated himself as if he had trouble finding something to say to her.

  Well, was that so surprising? She and Travis had visited him once after their marriage, and it hadn’t exactly been a success. Travis and his father had gotten into a quarrel over something so trivial that Hannah didn’t remember what it had been. She just remembered that they’d left a day earlier than they’d planned, and she’d felt helpless to make things better between them.

  The next time she’d seen Robert had been at Travis’s funeral.

  Robert cleared his throat. “You’re still staying with your aunt, I guess.”

  “Yes, we are. It’s working out very well. I help her with the bakery, and she helps me with Jamie.”

  “This aunt of yours.” He paused. “She’s Mennonite, I understand.”

  A slight trickle of apprehension touched her, as if a draft had tickled the back of her neck. There’d been an odd undertone to his words.

  But that was silly.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She hesitated, wondering what he wanted to know. “Well, I am, too, of course. We attend worship with her.”

  Silence greeted her words. And then—

  “You think that’s what Travis wanted for his son, being raised by people who are against everything he stood for?”

  She was so stunned that for a moment she couldn’t speak. What on earth did he mean? For an instant she wanted to hang up the receiver, as if that would allow her to avoid the entire subject.

  But she could hardly do that. She had to try to get along with Jamie’s grandfather. It wasn’t right to let Travis’s troubles with Robert spill over into another generation.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” She kept her voice calm with an effort. “It’s true that Mennonites and Amish believe in nonresistance, but that doesn’t mean anyone would say anything derogatory about Jamie’s father or his service in the military.”

  He made a sound that was close to a grunt. “I’ve been asking around, and I don’t like what I’m hearing. People living like they did a hundred years ago, keeping to themselves—who knows what goes on there. You know what it sounds like? It sounds like a cult.”

  “It’s not a cult.” Dismayed, she realized her voice was shaking a little. “The Mennonite church is a perfectly legitimate one.”

  “Wearing strange clothes, using horses and buggies . . . You call that normal?”

  Hannah closed her eyes for a moment, praying for calm. And wisdom, lots of wisdom.

  “My aunt has a car. We use electricity and the telephone. There are just some things we choose to live without.”

  You couldn’t be with your own son for more than a day without starting a quarrel with him. And I’m beginning to understand why.

  “Why do you have to stay there?” Robert’s question was so intense that she suspected that was where this conversation had been headed from the beginning. “Why didn’t you accept your friend’s offer?”

  The questions seemed to batter her, and for an instant Hannah couldn’t think. Then she realized what he’d said, and it was like a cold hand on the back of her neck.

  “My friend? Do you mean Megan Townsend? What do you know about her offer?” He’d obviously been in touch with Megan. Was he spying on her?

  “She called me. She’s worried about you. She told me what it’s like where you’re living, with people wearing old-fashioned clothes and driving horses. Doing without stuff everybody in this country takes for granted. You’re no kind of a mother to that boy if you expect him to live that way.”

  Megan. Megan had done this. Her friend had brought it on her. Hannah felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

  The line was silent, and it seemed to her that wariness was present in that silence. Maybe Robert was already regretting his harsh words, but he probably wouldn’t say so.

  She took a deep breath, saying another quick prayer. Then she spoke.

  “I will be glad to talk to you anytime about how Jamie is doing. But I think right now we should hang up before we say something we will regret.”

  Suiting the action to the word, Hannah hung up the receiver. She stood for a moment, hand on the phone, half-expecting Robert to call her again immediately, furious with her for hanging up on him.

  He didn’t. But she couldn’t imagine that this disagreement between them was over.

  * * *

  The setting sun touched the plumed tops of the sumac in the hedgerow, making them look like so many torches. William leaned against the fence. September was a fine month on a farm, and it was good to have a moment to enjoy it.

  If circumstances had been different, most likely he’d have been the son taking over Daadi’s farm, as usually happened in Amish farm families. The younger son was most often of an age to take over when the father decided to retire, while the older ones would have moved on to their own farms or businesses.

  But Daad’s ill health had changed that for all of them. Isaac had been pushed into running the farm at an early age, and he’d done it well. Ezra, when he was old enough, married Rachel, taking over the farm next door. It was the sensible solution, but now . . . well, it had somehow left no place for William.

  Still, maybe that had worked out for the best. He loved working with wood, and Caleb seemed to think he had a gift for it. He could be happy doing that for his life’s work.

  He heard a step behind him, and then Isaac came to lean on the fence next to him.

  “A gut day, ja? Soon enough it will start getting colder.”

  William nodded. “S-sumacs are t-turning.” Relaxed breath, take it easy going into the word, he reminded himself.

  “We’ll maybe get one more cutting off that south field,” Isaac said. “I’ll need you here the first part of the week, ja?” Isaac turned, as if he’d said all he’d come for.

  William’s jaw tensed. They both knew full well that Isaac had plenty of help for that job from his sons. And if William was ever going to speak up, this would be a good time.

  “I-I-I’m b-b-busy.” He tried to remind himself again of how to approach the words, but it seemed to do no good when his jaw was clenched tight.

  Isaac wheeled toward him. “What?”

  “B-b-busy.” He took a breath, trying to ease his throat muscles. “Caleb h-has t-t-to go s-s-someplace Monday. I-I’m watching the shop.”

  Better, that was better. All he had to do was remember what he’d been practicing.

  Isaac frowned for a moment. “Well, I guess you can’t let him down, if he’s counting on you. But Tuesday for sure.”

  “I h-have my m-meeting w-with Hannah.”

  Isaac reddened under his tan, and he looked as if he controlled himself with an effort. “It’s time you gave up on that foolishness. You don’t need to change yourself.”

  “I-I-I . . .” He seemed to choke on the words he wanted to say. Now was not the time for his lessons to desert him.

  “I knew you’d understand.” Isaac clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll see. This is for the best, and that is what I told Hannah Conroy.”

  “You d-did what?”

  “I went to see that . . . Hannah Conroy last night. I explained that these lessons weren’t gut for you. I’m sure she understood.”

  “How could you d-do that?” It seemed anger
worked even better in helping him get the words out. Isaac had gone to Hannah behind his back, as if he were a child.

  Isaac took a step back, his hand dropping from William’s shoulder. The slanting sunlight made his face even ruddier.

  “You are my little bruder. I must take care of you, ain’t so? I can’t let you—”

  William turned away, not wanting to hear any more. Not wanting to hear Isaac compare his friendship with Hannah to his mistaken infatuation for Rachel. Worse, if he tried to tell Isaac what he thought, he’d end up a stammering, incoherent mess.

  He strode quickly toward the stable, praying that Isaac wouldn’t attempt to follow him. He could hitch up the buggy and be in town in fifteen minutes or so.

  It wasn’t until he was on the road that doubts began to creep into his mind. What if Isaac was right, and these sessions didn’t help at all? What if he was kidding himself that he’d ever be able to speak well? He certainly had failed at this effort to speak his mind. Maybe it would always be that way.

  Worse, what if Hannah had accepted Isaac’s demands? Isaac could be intimidating, and Hannah might just want to keep peace in the community.

  He was on the outskirts of town, and he slowed the pace at which he’d been driving the animal. His first thought had been that he had to see Hannah, to tell her not to heed whatever nonsense Isaac had told her.

  Now that he was nearly there, it wondered him what exactly he could say. The mare seemed to sense his indecision, turning her head to look at him. Well, he was here now, and he wouldn’t go away without setting this straight. “Step up, Bess.”

  In a few minutes he was pulling into the alley beside the bakery. He slid down and tied the mare to the hitching rail. It was well past closing time, so they were probably upstairs. He went to the back door that opened onto the kitchen stairway and rang the bell.

  He heard someone coming. Hannah, he realized, recognizing her footsteps. She opened the door and stood looking at him.

  “We h-have t-to talk.”

  She nodded as if she’d been expecting him. “Come into the bakery kitchen. It’s quiet there. My aunt is playing a game with Jamie.”

  It must be a tickling game, judging from the squeals and giggles coming from upstairs. He followed Hannah into the room where they usually met, and she gestured for him to close the door.

  It was warm in the kitchen, heat still radiating from the big gas ovens. Hannah faced him, strain evident in her face.

  Had Isaac upset her that much? A fresh surge of anger went through him, and he tried to conquer it.

  “I kn-kn-know I-Isaac came and talked to you. I’m s-sorry.”

  Hannah blinked, as if she had to refocus her thoughts. “Yes. He did.” She put her hand up to her cheek, as if she needed comforting. “Did he tell you what it was about?”

  William felt a frown wrinkle his forehead. “A-about our l-lessons, ja?”

  “That.” She took a breath, pressing her lips together as if she didn’t want to say anything more. “And the fact that we met privately behind the fire hall Wednesday night. He made it sound as if we . . .” She let that trail off.

  His hands clenched into fists, but for Hannah’s sake, he must take it lightly. “That’s f-foolishness. If h-he saw us or s-someone else t-told him, it’s s-still silly.”

  “That’s what I thought. I told him it was perfectly innocent. I don’t know if he believed me.” But there was still a question in her eyes.

  “D-doesn’t matter,” he said, forcing the words out. “I am a g-grown man. I d-decide for myself.”

  She smiled, her expression lightening a little. “I told him that, too.”

  “Gut.” The anger slid away, and he smiled at her. As long as Hannah knew how to take it, he didn’t care what Isaac said.

  But the worry wasn’t gone from her face. The skin around her eyes seemed to be stretched tight. She’d already been upset when she came to the door. But if not because of Isaac, then what?

  “Hannah?” He reached out, wanting to touch her to ease the strain, but drew back. “Was ist letz?”

  “Nothing.” She stopped, looking uncertain. “Well, that’s not quite true. I had a call that upset me. From Travis’s father.”

  “Is h-he all r-right?” She hadn’t mentioned her husband’s family. He’d had the idea they weren’t in the picture.

  “Oh, he’s fine. Just angry.” Her hands twisted together. “He’s angry because I’m living here. Can you believe it? He has the idea that because Mennonites believe in nonviolence, they will condemn Jamie’s father for being a soldier.” Her lips trembled, and she put her hand up to hide them.

  “That’s n-not so. No one w-would.”

  “I know. That’s what I told him, but he wouldn’t listen. He said . . . he said I wasn’t a good mother if I brought Jamie up here.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, unconsciously moving as if she held her babe in her arms. William felt as if he’d been punched in the heart by her pain.

  “You are ser gut as a m-mammi. Everyone kn-knows th-that.” Unable to hold back any longer, he took her twisting hands, and wrapped them in his. “D-does Paula know about this?”

  Paula Schatz was a strong woman who understood the world better than most. She’d do anything to protect Hannah and Jamie.

  “I . . . I tried to keep her from hearing the worst of it. I didn’t want her to worry.” Hannah shook her head, but tears spilled over onto her cheeks anyway. “It was Megan who told him that nonsense. My friend, reporting to him behind my back.”

  A sob caught in her words. He seemed to feel her pain and disappointment, as if the betrayal had hurt him, too.

  “Don’t, Hannah. D-don’t hurt so.” He couldn’t stand it. He drew her into his arms, wrapping them around her so that she was enclosed in his embrace.

  She buried her face in his chest, and he felt the tears soaking into his shirt. Sobs shook her body, and all he could do was pat her and whisper soothing words, his cheek against her hair.

  Hannah wept helplessly, clinging to him, for several moments. Then the sobs lessened and she straightened, as if becoming aware of who she was holding on to.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, sniffling a little. “I shouldn’t let myself cry.” She drew back, looking into his face.

  They were very close—so close he could feel her breath on his skin. Her eyes seemed to widen in a question, and then to grow darker, the golden brown turning to chocolate.

  “William?” It was soft, questioning, and it touched his heart.

  He couldn’t stop. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and found her lips with his.

  Her arms were already around him, but now they tightened as she held him as tightly as he held her. Her lips were soft, sweet, and kissing her was like coming home, home to a place he’d never known.

  He didn’t want to end it, ever. But he had to. Slowly he pulled back from her. Hannah’s expression was bemused, as if she didn’t quite know what had happened, but a trace of a smile lingered on her lips, and she lifted her fingers to touch them.

  The enormity of what he’d done hit him with nearly enough force to knock him off his feet. “I-I-I am s-sorry,” he stammered. He blundered toward the door and came close to running outside.

  He’d been wrong. He didn’t just care what happened to Hannah. He was falling in love with her. And that could lead to nothing but heartbreak.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  From where she sat in the churchhouse, Hannah could see Aunt Paula seated on the left, closer to the front. There was logic, as well as tradition, in the seating arrangements in the plain, simple churchhouse. Older men sat on the right front, facing the ministers’ bench, while older women sat on the left. The rest of the community filled in the benches in the center, women and girls on one side, men and boys
on the other.

  Hannah sat with other young mothers, and they were quick to help each other. Warm smiles and comforting pats soothed fretful little ones, and for the most part, the babies and toddlers were quiet throughout the two-hour service.

  Hannah snuggled Jamie against her. He was nearly asleep, and she watched his eyes drift shut.

  The bishop was giving the long sermon today, and she focused on his face, weathered and kindly. At first she’d come to worship because Aunt Paula just assumed that she would. She’d gradually grown to value the peace she found in this plain, simple space, to find herself turning to God more and more often, like a child turned to a parent. Unfortunately that peace she usually felt was eluding her today.

  Concentrate on the sermon, she ordered herself. Shut out other thoughts and worries—things like Robert’s attitude, Megan’s betrayal, William’s kiss. Her breath caught, and she prayed her cheeks weren’t red at the very thought of it.

  It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. William was attracted to her, maybe, and maybe she felt the same. He was strong and kind and she’d selfishly leaned on that strength in a weak moment when she felt bombarded on all sides.

  But it wouldn’t be fair to William to let him imagine there could be a romantic relationship between them. Somehow, she’d have to find a way of being sure he understood that.

  The bishop’s wise, reasoned sermon on the love of God drew to a close. Two other ministers spoke briefly from their seats on the ministers’ bench, endorsing the bishop’s views. And then they all slid from the benches to their knees for a prayer.

  As if realizing Hannah might not be as practiced at kneeling while holding a sleeping toddler, the woman next to her took her elbow and helped her. Hannah gave her a smile of thanks as they bowed their heads.

  A few minutes later, they were all on their way out of the churchhouse, cheerful voices raised in greeting and conversation. Hannah had the feeling that no one would think to leave until they’d greeted everyone, even a relative outsider like herself.

  Jamie, of course, woke up the minute she’d walked outside, and he clamored to get down. She set him on the grass but kept a careful grip on his hand as she scanned the crowd for Aunt Paula.